Leaves Behind Her Heart And Used Socks
by paintedallup
Summary: Claire/Peter - Midnight.


Each time she comes, for only hours or days on end, it's always when all the clocks sing out the midnight hour.

(all the clocks set and ready to welcome her with a song)

And every night I'm wide awake, ready to welcome a familiar face (unchanged over these long years) and give up my bed for her, only her or _disappointment_.

I can be certain once a month she'll find her way to my door step with her sliver key clutched in her hand, the one that in another life would have been given as _lovers_ and not _siblings_ (a word, along with _niece_ and _family_ we try and avoid using), or when the bad guy wins the next round of this little play.

But most of the time, besides the need to see the one person that loves (both as a _brother_ and a _lover_) her body and soul, and she the same, she comes sneaking in when on accident she looks in the mirror and sees _nothing_ at all.

No _change_, no _feeling_, and nothing to keep her going to the next day.

So instead of making her way to do her daily life, saving the already burning world and killing our beloved president for the hundredth time this month (all it does is make the both of them smile with joy) she makes her way into my welcoming arms.

"About time you got here, Claire."

-

The new girl before me has slowly over the years grown into the one that I know as _Claire_ (_cheerleader_ and _innocent_, no longer describing her), the one that has Sylar's blood stained into her palms, the one that has a shell so think that even Sylar can't even break though (and more of the time I _barely_ can), and the one that is all grown up even if she doesn't, _can't_, look it.

(leather is her new best friend along with the new shade of brown even closer to black then yesterday)

"I said I was coming, I just didn't say when. Plus the world was ending I just didn't have the time to be happy."

"Well, just stop thinking about the world right now and be happy with me."

"That I can do (if only for a _second_)."

The moment her '_big girl'_ shoes, the ones I couldn't see her wearing when all of this came to a burning _start_, touched the doorway like every other time I could see a change, see the face she saves for the rest of world slip away and be replaced by the happiness that we get to have only moments at a time, but of course for me it's only when she's finally in my life once again.

(_happiness_ is not easy to come by for us, saving the world, killing the villains and worrying about each other along the way replaces it)

-

It's these times that we look forward to and in the future (the one that looks forever _black_) will look back on as the ones without _carnage_ and _flames_ to lick all the bodies of loved ones away.

These times, with the one other person besides _Nathan_ that I loved the most, where our toes and fingers are warmed by the fireplace and in between the covers of a bed that from the moment the '_click-click'_ of her shoes are in ear shot is no longer mine.

And the favorite part of the day, besides stealing the _glances_ and _kis__ses_ that are so wrong but no one is left to point that out, is the story telling of the days on end we spent away (the ones that were too long without her) of being the heroes we plan on being for life and the many attempts at killing the _son of a_ _bitch_ himself, Sylar.

"God, he just won't _die_! I put a spike though his head, I mean all the way, and he just pulled it out and offered me some Caviar. This is getting old fast but still for Monday I have a _blowtorch_ with his name on it."

During all of this we both come back to life, with the help of lips and cheeks that just can't help but be kissed, as if before we were sleeping all the way though all of the _death_ and only dare to open our eyes when we know what we're going to see is _love_ and not _blood_.

And this time there are no judging eyes locked on both of us, no lips to scream at us how _wrong_ we are, wrong to our soul and bones, because we love each other more then we should, that's the only good result in all of this death, no more eyes watching and hands pulling us apart.

"Until next, which I _promise_ will be sooner and I don't break promises, I made a promise to kill Sylar until it sticks and so far I've kept that. Plus I better get back to the others, without me they run around like chickens with their heads cut off. Now don't you go and die on me, _Peter_ _Petrelli_."

"I'll be here when you come like always, and now don't you go and die on me, _Claire_ _Bennet_."

Each time we leave until next time we don't say goodbye because we're saving them for the death that is not coming anytime soon but instead we say '_now don't you go and die on me'_ as if laughing at the fates hoping they'd get so pissed off that they end up making it so we could die together _old_ and _gray_.

But so far nothing has happened (besides a stray piece of glass or knife aimed to kill) and all we have is _hope_, so far that and the two of us have been enough.

The only thing we need now is one dead _commander_ _in chief._


End file.
